


take me as i am; or don't

by kingslayer (amurgin)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 08:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21223685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amurgin/pseuds/kingslayer
Summary: The scent,his scent, wafts down from where he stands. The smell of cinders. The promise of fire,old fire, snuffed out but still potent, waiting for the right time, the right person to set it back alight. It is a rich aroma that assaults him headfirst, unforgiving, relentless in its mercilessness. But there is something else there, too, a sweeter fragrance that tickles the underbelly of fire. Chamomile. A floral tone, smokey and heady. It sneaks upon Felix from the shadows, intoxicating him, devouring him whole.





	take me as i am; or don't

**Author's Note:**

> Just something to keep in mind, I've built the a/b/o structure of this fic so that it will mostly cater to my own headcanons. With that said, it's not traditional a/b/o by any means, so if you're a more conservative kind of reader, this might not be the fic for you!

The night grows longer and Felix comes up short.

Empty-handed, except for the small silk pouch he’s been toying with inside his pocket. It isn’t the type of object Felix would choose for himself, but he appreciates Ashe’s thoughtfulness nonetheless, finds his attention to detail endearing in its own way. The delicate fabric feels ever-so-soft, and the gold thread embroidery stands out distinctly against his skin. He squeezes, turning it in his grasp over and over, finger hooking around the strings that are keeping it shut tight, and he tugs at it. A rather odd way to destress that doesn’t work, but Felix has nothing better to do and giving up was never in his nature. 

Now that he’s standing here, however, he finds that he’s swallowed his tongue instead of the pills. It’s not giving up that he contemplates, but a tactical retreat, instead. Yes, that’s it. Only a fool would fight a war unprepared. 

Except the war’s already been won. There’s nothing left to fight, despite how hard Felix still tries to make an enemy out of Dimitri. How many years has he spent playing the role of a lover to the war that had taken everything from him? _Too long, _he finds himself thinking, now that he belongs to someone else.

At least he's no longer alone, the heart of another hanging around his neck, both a luxurious necklace and a filthy noose. Still, it is not a bad life, belonging to someone, having them belong to you, too. There is peace in it.

After the war, peace takes an entirely different meaning.

There is the clamour of the towns, people coming back to life, unfrozen when the long winter of war passes over them. Peace is not a silent thing. It rings with laughter, alcohol flowing freely, glass shards swept beneath the chairs accompanied by plates clattering down on the tables, shuffled around countless times with the arrival of new food. Much is left to celebrate.

To Felix, too, peace takes on a different form now, borrowing the shape of Dimitri. Tall and proud, head a little straighter than a few weeks ago, a few days ago. Sure, he falters sometimes, but who doesn’t after seeing what they’ve seen? That much is to be expected. 

He's grown more tolerant, Felix finds, now that there are fewer triggers to set Dimitri off. Now that there's time for them to catch up, to figure themselves out alongside one another. It's a process, but they're both learning, slowly, who it is that they really are. For his part, Dimitri resembles his older, earlier self more often these days, that wide-tooth smile he used to pull off in their childhood returning to grace his features once more. A nostalgic sight, for a Felix that's missed him all these years. With that same smile, Dimitri had won him over, convincing him, after numerous different tries, to officially enter courtship. However, their duties had not afforded the time to do so.

A few months have passed since then, since their return to Fhirdiad, Dimitri’s coronation and his untimely ascension to kinghood. With that out of the way, Felix had been forced to depart posthaste for Fraldarius territory, where remnants of the imperial army, allies and other such forces, continued their rebellion. Those few months had not been enough to drive them out. A year may still have not been enough. The work had only just begun. 

That also meant being absent from Dimitri's company, and despite not wanting to admit it, Felix found his time away from the capital unpleasant, to say the least. The letter summoning him back to court arrived within his hands like an honest miracle, as if delivered by the Goddess, herself, and after getting his house settled enough to function with him at a distance, Felix had ridden back to the capital, a kick to his heel. A rush that drove him onwards, headfirst.

Yet, that same urge that set fire to his bones disappears as quickly as it comes into existence.

The tall twin doors stretch on to the ceiling, endlessly, and Felix rests his palm against one of them. His other hand pulls out the pouch he had been toying with, and he feels the small pills inside, moving them around through the fabric. He had been so very careful to stave off his heat, knowing that he’d be secluded back in his home with nobody worthwhile to fuck. An even more grave revelation came to him when he realized that it wasn't that there was nobody to satisfy him, but that the only person he wanted wasn't there. That had been the worst part of all.

He’s always wanted a fight though, and what better place for Felix to find it than here, inside the lion's den, where it waits to be seized like a beast with both hands?

In one quick movement, he pulls the pouch open, shaking two pills into his open hand and swallowing them dryly. No water. No saliva. 

_“Excuse my intrusion.” _Felix announces himself, and with a newfound determination, both hands laid now against the wooden panels, he pushes the doors open. With a firm gait, he makes his way inside the chamber, traversing the room from one end to the other before coming to a stop a number of steps away from the throne. There, dropping to one knee, his eyes comb through the plush carpet beneath him. _“It is an honour to find you well, your Highness.” _

He breathes through his mouth, long, deep breaths that do little to mask the smells from his all-too-attuned senses, that innate part of him that’s been designed for that very purpose. 

_Alphas. _The whole lot of them. Save for a few others, but their scent runs thin and it becomes harder to tell. And at their center—

_"Duke Fraldarius, you have returned." _The utterance of Felix’s name, his title, sparks a glint in Dimitri's eye that lays siege to Felix's heart, tearing its walls heartbeat by heartbeat, one word at a time. Were he to oppose it, Felix would find it to be in vain. Dimitri's pull is as sure as the force of gravitation. _"I take it you have found your people well, if you have returned to us.” To me _, he seems to want to say by the way the sentence runs itself rougher at the end, the dip in his voice as sharp as the kiss of a blade pressed to Felix’s pulse. And all he can do is swallow, because Dimitri’s mere presence is ravaging his insides. A natural disaster. Unavoidable. It renders the pills he's just taken null in an instant. 

_“It is as you say.”_

_“Good. It pleases me to hear so.” _He sits back into his seat, as if relaxing at his own words. Or, perhaps, at what he is about to say. _“You will be staying with us awhile, then?”_

_“For as long as you’ll have need of me.” _

The weight of his words does not go unremarked, the room falling into a most unbearable silence, more deafening than that previous one, interrupted only by the low rumble of Dimitri’s voice and its echoes. 

They might be remembering a time from lives ago, when Felix held his fangs at Dimitri’s jugular to keep him in check, when no conversation could be brokered between them without immediate dissent. A time when their relationship had been as fractured as a broken mirror, its reflection cracked into shards so thin and sharp that just the act of looking at it would be entirely too painful. But that was long ago. Now, they were grown ups, adults with needs, and it just so happened that they could take care of each other in ways nobody else could. Felix tugs at the collar of his shirt, though it does little to liberate him. 

_"Indeed. And you of I." _ Dimitri doesn't dignify him with any other response for a while, merely watching him, scrutinizing him, in a way that makes Felix clench his jaw. He's always had a penchant for blowing things out of proportion, but Dimitri is the king now, and that means nothing except for the fact that Felix really _is_ trying to change. For better or for worse is to be determined. 

_“You are all dismissed for the time being.” _His voice resounds clearly throughout the large chamber, bouncing off the marbled walls in a low echo that carries the masses on their way. Dimitri imposes a presence that does not expire. It persists long after he has fallen into silence, like the massive shadow cast by his body, dark and unmistakable. 

_“Your Highness.” _Last comes Dedue’s voice, and then he is also on his way, leaving his King perched alone atop the throne. There is a pause as he passes by Felix, but neither of them waver. Dedue’s eyes remain set forward, on the unseen horizon, Felix’s dusting over Dimitri’s boots, loitering about his knees without rising any higher, and though their bodies do not touch, the weight of Dedue’s bearing threatens to knock him over. His legs tense up and he holds himself steady. 

And in the moment it takes him to breathe in the sweet, sweet scent of spices, the smell of freshly wet dirt burying him six feet below the ground, Dedue is gone, leaving behind only the traces of a warmth and a yearning for someone else. It takes Felix a second to untangle that foreign scent that mingles together with Dedue’s, faintly but undoubtedly there. Ashe’s heat is evident. 

He is all on his own by the time it occurs to him that it might be time to follow his way out on their heels. With a dip of his head, a half-bow, he turns around and makes for the exit, hopeful that he might not have to answer that calls that stirs within him. And, as far as Felix is concerned, he can easily ignore himself, but leaving Dimitri hanging—that’s what’s hard. 

_“Not you, Felix. Would you mind staying behind?” _

Dimitri raises the tail end of his tone, phrases the words as a question, but, to Felix, it comes across as an order from his King and a desperate call from his lover. 

He is unsure of how best to answer, so he allows his eyes to hit the floor, burying his stare far below the ground. There is little to achieve in doing so, but some part of him, the larger part, still struggles with looking people in the eye. Most of all, _him_. 

_"Felix…" _

The second time around, he raises his arm, reaching for Felix with an open palm. His fingers are curled inward in a beckon that calls upon him to relinquish everything, to place his sword, his pride, his body at the foot of the throne. To kneel and surrender. Loyalty and trust.

When Dimitri lifts his hand, stretches it out into an invitation, he knows that Felix may shut his eyes but that he cannot turn off his body. He is being endlessly kind in his cruelty. They both need this. 

The scent, _his _scent, wafts down from where he stands. The smell of cinders. The promise of fire, _old fire_, snuffed out but still potent, waiting for the right time, the right person to set it back alight. It is a rich aroma that assaults him headfirst, unforgiving, relentless in its mercilessness. But there is something else there, too, a sweeter fragrance that tickles the underbelly of fire. Chamomile. A floral tone, smokey and heady. It sneaks upon Felix from the shadows, intoxicating him, devouring him whole. 

His heart gasps inside his chest, oxygen thinning out inside his bloodstream until his mind is submerged into a thick cloud of haze. A baptism of desire, so to speak, when Felix feels himself sinking into the murky depths of physical and emotional desire. Two pools flowing into each other. 

Still suspended midair is Dimitri’s hand, there to hold his head below the surface.

There is a steady hum inside his ears that obscures the sound of his surroundings, but unmistakable is the rough heave of his lungs, breaths deep and short, choppy, until he becomes lightheaded. The weight of his mind shifts to the lower recesses of his body when he swallows the saliva that’s pooled at the root of his tongue, throat parched by a thirst he feels like a strip of sandpaper rubbing against his esophagus. 

Little is left to keep him tethered. The flame that Felix recognizes burning at the tips of Dimitri’s fingers settles in the pits of his belly, burning low, boiling him from the inside. His arms wind around his stomach and he holds himself as steady as possible, biting back his tongue, clicking it against his teeth. 

From above, Dimitri remains unmoving, unyielding, despite owning the fire that bedevils him so. 

He can make out Felix’s own scent, flaring up with each passing second, roaring ablaze. It is the smell of the forest, unadulterated by the clash of iron, the spilling of blood. It is the bed of pine needles beneath the soles of Dimitri’s boots, first winter knocking on his doorstep. The sting of spices slipping down his throat. Felix is everything he loves about the Kingdom of Faerghus, about his home and more. About himself. 

Because it is Felix that makes life worth living, gives meaning to the remnants of Dimitri, shattered and unrecognizable to anybody aside from him. 

_“Come to me, Felix.” _

Dimitri’s voice is nectar to his ears. It flows a river down throughout his body, stripping his defenses down like scraps of fabric, one by one, until he’s left standing there feeling more naked than when he was a newborn. Instead, he feels himself a new man, coming undone in so many more ways than one. Over a decade’s worth of years turns to sand in an instant, and with Dimitri by his side, the past means everything and nothing all at once. 

The command he utters sets Felix into motion, and then he’s ambling, steps featherlight as he makes his way to the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne, unable to resist. Dimitri sets fire to the hearth deep within his body, and he moves, almost mechanically, Felix’s mind ambling two, three, four paces behind his body, unable to keep up. One foot at a time, and then he’s the one finally towering over Dimitri, if only for once. 

An arm’s length—Dimitri’s arm’s length—still keeps them apart, and Felix’s eyes avoid his face altogether, instead tracing out the shape of his palm, the calloused skin he can recognize as if it were his own, the fate lines that mar him. And he cannot help but wonder if all of this had been etched into his body from the beginning, if the Goddess played all of them cruelly, writing the answers to life upon their bodies without teaching anybody how to read them. A silly little thought that does not beget him, but Felix wonders if he’s mentioned there, within Dimitri’s biography. 

That’s all it is though, silly, when Dimitri’s hand is right there for the taking. 

Felix’s body stammers as he reaches to take it into his hand, seizing it as his own. He lays it upon Dimitri’s like a gentle snowfall, reserved, because trust is a fragile little thing Felix still struggles to offer up. Blow upon it once and it melts into a droplet of water, not unlike a snowflake. 

The gesture brings a smile to Dimitri’s lips that glistens like honey. Sickeningly-sweet, it twists and bends something inside Felix that threatens to snap with one more push, just one more little push, and it comes quickly in the shape of Dimitri swooping his hand into his grasp, leaning in to press a kiss to his knuckles. Butterflies upon his skin. His stomach falters, his cheeks run red. 

When he stands upright, Dimitri parts their hands, stretches Felix’s open until their palms are touching directly in front of them, and then he’s tangling them together into an interlocked chain of fingers, squeezing softly before tugging Felix closer. And he follows, cannot help but follow, the enticement of Dimitri’s pull bringing Felix down. Finally, _finally. _

He falls back upon his knees softly, sinking into the cobalt velvet carpet, into Dimitri’s thigh where he lays his head to rest, leaving the coupling of their hands to sit upon the throne’s armrest. Thinking is no easy task, so he relinquishes all matters of the mind to Dimitri, whose other hand comes to rest upon his head, combing waves out of his hair until the tie that binds it is all but lost to the depths. With a purr, twilight rears up against his hold, nuzzling into the touch, and Felix lets his eyes sink shut.

_“I have missed you. Bitterly so.” _There is a rumble to his voice when he speaks, low and clear, but Felix’s mind remains vague. The scent of his skin overwhelms him, and there is also the flame to worry about. Yet, for an instant, this is everything he needs. 

A moment later, it’s not nearly enough. 

_“Take responsibility then, for making me this way.” _

_“I am to understand that it is my fault, then?”_

_“Of course it is!” _He snaps, turns to look up at Dimitri with half-lidded eyes, glazed irisies, two dull drops of amber beseeching pity. _“Who else would have me on my knees this way?” _

_“Oh, many would, my beloved. But tell me, who is it that has you on your knees?” _Dimitri punctuates his words with a slight roll in his timbre, the sound of fire, roaring to life before his very eyes. Felix trembles. A hand slips beneath his chin and plucks him from his resting grounds, brings him up to stand up on his knees, neck craning where Dimitri can affix him to the spot with his eye. The sky spreads its wings over him. _“Your tongue—it still speaks, does it not? Or perhaps there are other uses you’d rather put it to.” _

_“Don’t speak nonsense!” _Felix tears his gaze away from Dimitri, and he can feel his face darken, his insides stir. 

_“Look at me, Felix.” _Is what he replies, and Felix shudders. The skin of his neck prickles. A shiver thunders through his spine, pulling it taut until he’s sitting straighter than ever before. 

Dimitri’s eyes dim, eyelids narrowing, and then he’s upon him, descending in a flurry of lips and teeth. He nips at Felix’s bottom lip, claims it as his own in a messy display. Tongue pries his mouth open, slips inside, and given how easily all of it comes, how little resistance he’s met with, it isn’t hard to tell that Felix invites him. Body and heart. He is welcome there. 

Against him, Felix groans, a sound that’s a touch breathier than it should be, a touch higher than his regular voice. Breathing becomes a chore when Dimitri comes back to suck at his lip, vowing to break skin. Which he does without delay. Now there is blood in their mouths, the taste of salt and iron mixed with saliva. It numbs Felix’s thought and heightens all his senses, stimulating his body like diamond lightning coursing through his veins. His hands come up instinctively to sit against Dimitri’s chest, and he has half a mind to push and half a mind to pull. 

The latter wins. 

His fingers thread themselves in Dimitri’s royal attire, slipping past seams, behind buttons, hooking into every part of him that he can uncover. Every movement is underlied by a need to have Dimitri as close as possible, to have them join in a union of flesh, of body and heart. Months of being apart come to an excruciating conclusion with Dimitri grasping at his long tresses, fisting them into a ball behind his head, and pressing their mouths together where they can clash against each other.

It is, undoubtedly, hunger that drives them to make a mess of each other’s lips. Blood and saliva. Lips swelling red, bruises littered all over, where they make attempts at biting off entire chunks of flesh. Felix takes the brunt of it, slower, still struggling against the tide of a milky sea. He melts, mind and body, to the place where his legs crumble, going limp in Dimitri’s hands, all but his mouth, still running itself ragged into their kiss.

At that, Dimitri draws the line between them, letting go of Felix and pulling back to stand erect, casting shadows across his face, steeping it in the darkness of their lust. 

_“Answer me, Felix. Who is it that you are laid upon your knees prostrate for? Who is the lucky man you have bestowed this sight upon?” _

It makes Felix wince to hear him speak. At the loss of contact, at the way Dimitri carves desire out of his body with the keen blade of his tongue, leaving him behind in ruins. He doesn’t understand what sort of pleasure he could ever derive out of seeing him this way. Like an animal. Wet and only getting wetter. 

_It takes a beast to know one_, he supposes. 

Still, Felix scorns the idea of letting Dimitri waste him any more, even though he is racked with want, need to feel every opening in his body filled. Heart, mind, ass. Simple things for simple people. 

His hands plant themselves upon his knees, lifting his body up with more difficulty than should be possible. But then he is standing tall, stretching further still, curling forwards and upwards like a cat. His head lols back until their eyes lock and the chain tightens. 

_“It’s you.”_

Short, forgettable if the Goddess takes mercy upon him. Felix’s teeth grind together when he speaks.

But Dimitri seems satisfied, brings his hands to his face and holds him in place, bending forward to press his lips to Felix’s temple, like a leaning tower, threatening to crumble and swallow him up at any moment. Dimitri's breath is low and warm, and it draws the flush from his face to the tips of his ears. Blooming roses and reds. 

_“Again. Let me hear your voice again, my beloved.” _

_“Just you, Dimitri. Nobody else.” _He doesn’t mean to let desperation tinge his voice like it does, and Felix hopes again that it goes unnoticed, quickly relinquishing all belief when his arms follow his words. They wrap around Dimitri’s neck and pull him closer. It is only then that he notices the way his fingertips tremble, so he digs a grave into his golden hair and lays them to rest there, where they can hold onto him forevermore. 

_“You are so very good.” _And then his own arms wrap around Felix’s waist, tightening around him until they’re almost too tight._ “It pleases me to hear you speak so. Goddess, you might never know how happy it makes me.”_

There is a certain kindness Dimitri affords Felix, allowing him a place to hide his shame. 

He nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck, and for a moment, he is at peace there, in his embrace. Dimitri’s cape falls around them, draping a curtain that obscures Felix’s small frame from the world, conceals him in a place where only Dimitri can reach. His lips brush along the edge of a collarbone, and then he inhales. 

The sky goes dark. The fire crackles. 

There is the scent of burning again, but this time, he’s far too close. Deep inside him, something tightens, winds and unwinds like clockwork, getting oiled to run smoother. His nails start to dig at the base of Dimitri’s head, scratching. Superficially at first, deeper quickly after. 

_“Dimitri…“ _He rasps, and the sound of his own voice is like a dagger to the heart. _“I need you. I need you now.” _

_“I know, beloved. As do I. Shall we make our way to my chambers, then?”_

_“No. Now.” _His reply is curt and then he’s making quick and sloppy work of Dimitri’s breeches, tugging at them in vain. Dimitri sits up just enough to let him slip them down to his ankles. He can’t help the muffled chuckle that escapes him, despite not wanting to antagonize. It’s hard to overlook the sense of urgency with which Felix rips the buttons open, almost tearing them out entirely, the way he gets stuck on the fourth one, mutters a swear under his breath like it’s going to help him get unstuck. 

Dimitri finds it endearing. His hand comes to draw brushstrokes along his jaw, outlining the edge that runs between his chin and his earlobe, and then it comes to stop at the back of his head, searching, unearthing the ribbon that keeps his hair wound up loosely into a bun. 

Of course he pulls it free, excruciatingly slowly, releasing Felix’s mane gradually. His tresses are longer now than they’ve ever been before, and Dimitri pretends it might be for his sake, that Felix may have taken note of the one time he let his tongue slip, mentioning upon a chance encounter that long hair had always suited him, that it painted a most beautiful picture. He pretends that the silken twilight curls are a peace offering, even when he knows it’s all about convenience.

Convenience, of course, can mean many different things. 

His fingers run themselves through the darkened rivers, streaming down their silhouette with fervent reverie. Worship at his fingertips when he charms out of Felix’s skin another wave of roses and pinks. 

He remembers, as clearly as if only a few instances had passed since, the warmth with which Dimitri lingered upon his hair, calling it beautiful. He also remembers the innocent with which his heart swelled inside his chest despite his own wishes, the promise Felix made to himself, to entrust his hair the will to do as it pleased.

By then, he’s got Dimitri stripped to his underwear, and now he’s reaching for his erection, pulling it free from the tight fabric of his boxers. 

_Has it always been so large? _Is something he seems to ask himself every time they find themselves in this position, and every time he seems to forget. Either that or Dimitri really is growing bigger. As unlikely as that is, Felix struggles to dismiss the theory. 

That’s only the half of it, however. Dimitri is big, yes, but he is also thick, his girth reaching the level of _most-definitely-going-to-break-someone, _that someone being Felix. And the more he stares at it, the more it twitches, pearl after pearl of precum leaking from the top. At the base of his cock, the knot, plump and full, waiting to latch inside. Just seeing it is enough to rattle Felix, saliva rushing in to pool beneath his tongue. In vain does he swallow. The damage is already done. 

_“Ah…” _Dimitri winces at the chill of the air, at Felix’s breath so close to his cock, warming it back up. The temperature of his body rises while the world outside grows colder, still, but even just that little bit of temperature play feels already too good. _“I had forgotten…what it was that you could do to me, so very easily.”_

That statement, alone, is enough to give Felix a kick, to get his mouth warm and wet. Other places, too. The heat subsides, giving his leash that extra bit of length needed to start pleasuring Dimitri. 

He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, giving it a few firm strokes, to gauge the terrain, to garner a response, one that comes instantly. Dimitri groans. His chest rumbles beneath his voice, vibrating with such intensity that Felix finds himself overwhelmed by the wetness between his legs. 

_“I’ll have you work for it, your Highness.” _And there is sarcasm in the epithet. Otherwise, Felix would never call him that in a situation such as this. Still, his attempt at biting misses entirely. 

_“I would not have it any other way.” _Dimitri’s laughter rings like crystal from above, a most pure sound that has Felix mumbling to himself about how annoying he is, even though what he means to say is precisely the opposite. That, deep, deep, _deep _inside, he finds Dimitri just as lovely as _he _is to _him _.

Hastily, Felix opens his mouth, wraps his lips around the tip and skirts the surface with his tongue, lapping up the precum greedily. A little goes a long way, and Felix can taste the fire, warm and inebriating against his palate. Nothing can keep under lock the traitorous moan that escapes him, resonating against Dimitri’s cock and drawing that same sound from his own lips. 

Before anybody can get the chance to acknowledge how utterly self-conscious it makes him, Felix pours himself entirely into that filthy act, dipping down Dimitri’s erection in one smooth move, cut short only when his dick hits the back of his throat long before he can reach the base. Felix’s eyes squeeze shut. His nose flares when he breathes harshly, but it brings no relief when the air surrounding them is tinted by Dimitri’s scent. There is no escape.

So he presses onwards, tongue slipping beneath, licking the underside of his dick. As he rises steadily, it follows, drawing the muscle’s edge with its wetness, and when Felix reaches the top, he quickly slides back down, giving Dimitri no room to collect himself.

_“A-Ah. Felix…” _His hand twirls a bundle of locks around his fingers and he tugs with a gentle roughness, hips taking on a low roll as he begins to push against Felix. _“Fuck. Go on.” _And he does, but not because Dimitri asks in a delightfully filthy swear unbefitting of his royal character. That would be entirely too simple. He continues only because doing so gives him the opening to reach down between his legs, to palm at his own erection through the fabric of his pants. It swells painfully, and Felix can feel it throbbing, seeking relief at his fingertips. 

Dimitri’s cock tightens and pulsates against the roof of his mouth, and it pleases him entirely too much to have him at the tip of his tongue’s mercy, so willing to entrust himself to Felix’s lips as they unravel him. 

It must have been some time since Dimitri last pleasured himself because he comes shortly after, his cock burying itself as deep down his throat as Felix can take. He swallows, but it’s impossible to stop himself from gagging, some of the semen quickly coming back out, dripping down his chin. 

_“Goddess, Felix, I am so terribly sorry.” _Like he hadn’t just cum, Dimitri is instantly upon him, diagnosing him with his hands, running them all over his face to undo the damage, to erase his mistakes. _“I got carried away, and—”_

_“Don’t look at me!” _Felix, too, as if he hadn’t just gotten his throat fucked, paws and scratches at Dimitri’s face, pushing it away from where he can’t see how flushed he’s become. His hands are pressed to the side of his head, keeping him there. 

He really doesn’t need to know how much Felix enjoyed himself. 

But Dimitri foils his plans. His lips tug wide into a smile, bright and so-very-tender. He had always found that side of Felix cute, the one that kept on insisting he hide himself, as if a childhood together, teenage years spent together, a war fought together, and now,this could all be concealed so effortlessly. Yet, who was he to deny him that solace? 

Reaching behind, he unfastens the cape from his shoulders, bringing it down and wrapping him up within it. Felix, peeking at him, lets his hands drop and watches Dimitri fit it snuggly around his back. Once it is done, he can’t help pulling it over his nose, burrowing inside it where he can smell Dimitri again and again. New scents, old scents, foreign scents all woven into the fabric that makes up the garment. 

Peering at him from where Felix cannot see, Dimitri fixes himself up, straightening his crooked shirt, getting himself back inside his breeches. When he is done, he speaks warmly, his hand reaching to pet Felix’s head. 

_“Shall we head to my chamber now, beloved? I owe you much for all you have done.” _

With a resolute nod, he stands up too quickly, his mind growing thin, vision darkening the higher he gets. Luckily, Dimitri’s instincts, his affinity for Felix and his well-being, have his arms darting forward to catch him. 

_“Careful, Felix. You’re burning up.” _How could he have forgotten? Or maybe his affliction had quickly aggravated. Needless to say, being around Dimitri is unbearably hard. Being apart from him is unthinkable. 

_“I’m fine.” _And it isn’t really a lie if nobody buys into it. 

_“Of course, of course.” _

In a flash, he is hoisted off the ground. Dimitri slips his hands behind Felix’s thighs, grabbing him roughly before lifting him off the ground and into his arms. 

_“D-Dimitri!” _Surprised, and also aroused, Felix considers chastising him, but then his legs wrap around his waist of their own volition, pressing their bodies as close as they can go, and he is forced to pipe down. Instead, he grasps at Dimitri’s coat, bunching it in his hold as if it were his only lifeline, as if Dimitri would ever let him go. 

_“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” _

Though that is hardly the problem. 

The trek to Dimitri’s bedroom is not impossible. Not exactly, anyway. But it also isn’t a smooth journey, because Felix is all muddled up and the palace isn’t exactly vacant. Persons of all rankings, maids and ministers alike, remain a common sight, at least until the later hours of the day when some will retire to their own quarters, as they are doing now. 

For what it’s worth, the cape still hangs off of his shoulders, and he clutches it tightly, ducking his head inside. There, he can hear Dimitri’s heart beating forcefully, drumming a melody against his chest that gathers the clouds around Felix’s head, overdyeing his mind once again in that shadowy shade of thoughtlessness, the inability to get his thoughts straight. The only thing he is sure of is the press of Dimitri’s body to his own, the feeling of his fingers digging into his thighs, just below the ass. The fact that all that’s sitting between him and the complete obscurity of the void that is his heat is Dimitri and that it is also Dimitri who is pushing him into it.

It’s almost laughable, the irony of it all. 

There’s not much he can discern about his surroundings. Dimitri’s breathing stays even, and he carries the two of them through the seemingly empty halls to the echoes of his boots clicking against the bare floors. They have gotten lucky, then, and it is precisely when that thought occurs to Felix that he hears the all-too-foreign sound of someone else’s gait, working in opposition to Dimitri’s. He stiffens in his hold, and Dimitri notices, starts writing nonsense into the skin of his back with his fingers to reassure him. 

_“Y-Your Highness.” _The steps of a maid come to a sudden halt, surprised, surely, at seeing the King in all his glory. 

_“Please, be at ease.” _Felix hears the tug of his lips, the smile that tickles the belly of most of his speech, but he doesn’t stop, only carries on forward. 

Then, at long last, there is the sound of the handle turning, the shrill creak of the door opening, and they are finally inside the royal chambers. Dimitri carries the two of them to his bed, and bending over, he lays Felix gently upon the mattress with a kiss to his forehead, the bridge and tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth. Dimitri moves so very carefully, afraid that he might break at any moment. 

Little does he know that Felix is already broken. 

_“How are you feeling?” _Leisurely, he takes his time undoing the buttons of his shirt, shrugging the fabric off like a second skin after plopping his coat down on the corner of the bed. After, it’s his boots, his breeches, until he’s left there, standing in nothing more than his underwear and eyepatch. There is no use for it in bed, but he makes no attempt at denying its presence, even for an evening. 

_“Hot and terrible.” _Felix makes a pass at laughing, but it sounds more like a whine than anything. With a great deal of effort, he pulls himself to stand up, legs folded beneath him, and then he’s reaching for Dimitri prudently, slowly, as if not to startle him. His hands lay across his cheeks, cupping his face, and Dimitri would swear in a heartbeat that he can barely feel it, that Felix touches him the way he might a ghost—half-expecting to fall right through him, half anticipating a strike in retaliation.

The reality is that Felix touches him like a broken sun, a fallen star that stands to shatter at any given moment. He _is _afraid, even now, but not of Dimitri, no. Of himself, and what he knows his mouth and hands have done to him, all these years. 

Dimitri watches him with a steady eye, following the curvature of his lips as they take a downturn. One of Felix's hands slips into his blindspot, and he tenses up, but doesn’t pull away, not even when he feels Felix’s fingers slide behind, slipping beneath the strings keeping his eyepatch fastened, not when he pulls them loose and tugs it off. Instead, he lowers his head, losing sight of Felix, though his presence there persists in every other sense. And Felix frees his head of the thorned crown that adorns it, throws it to the side gracelessly. 

Unsure, Dimitri sneaks a peek, raising his head back up, and to his pleasure, Felix aids him in pulling his body back up. He, too, pulls forward until they are sitting at eye level, leaning in so that his lips can ghost over that spot where the scar softens his skin. The kiss he places there is short, a peck more than anything, and it’s uncertain whether or not Dimitri can even feel it. What’s most important is that Felix offers him that minuscule intimacy, knowing fully well how uncharacteristic of him it is to afford someone such generosity, but also that that very same gesture would make Dimitri’s entire world spin around at least once more. 

One of his hands remains pressed against the side of Dimitri’s face while the other slides down to his chin, thumb tracing his lower lip, drawing his attention to it. Their foreheads tip over, bracing against each other for a second, and then Dimitri is kissing the pad of his finger, drowning the minuscule surface in however much love he can fit in that one spot. 

From where he stands, Felix watches Dimitri hang his head in trust, giving up all of himself. So, he presses the finger in and Dimitri seems to understand when his eye glimmers and he parts his lips, tongue unfurling to draw out the length of Felix’s finger, sucking it in with a pop. His eye rises to meet Felix’s stare, making him flush furiously at the exposure, though he continues probing at the wet muscle, feeling out its surface, wondering what it might taste like were Dimitri able to perceive it. 

_Foolish thoughts_, he banishes them. What matters is the _now _of it all. 

He presses down, opening Dimitri's mouth as wide as it will go before kissing him like that. Chaotically. Enamel clashing, tongues wrestling.

_“I want you to take me as yours. Think you’re capable of that?” _Felix quips as soon as he pulls back, his lip curling to flash white in a snarl. Despite already knowing what Dimitri will say, what he will do, he still makes passes at trying to get a rise out of the animal he’s always made Dimitri out to be. Only now does it occur to Felix, as he’s leaning forward, as his wet fingers slip underneath the waistband of Dimitri’s underwear, grabbing a hold again of his cock, only now does he realize that maybe it was always his fault. Maybe Dimitri wasn’t a beast until Felix turned him into one. 

In front of him, Dimitri visibly wavers. His knees flutter and he slumps a little forward when his head falls into the crook of Felix’s neck. He can smell him so very clearly, more than he can see or hear or touch him. Winter falls upon him, stealing his breath away in a groan that reaches Felix’s cock, insides seizing up within him. 

_“It took every ounce of my willpower to stop me, Felix.” _Dimitri speaks with his teeth, drawing dangerously close to Felix’s scent glands. He grazes at the skin with his canines, their sharp little points serving as a constant threat that sends shivers down Felix’s back, breath hitching in his throat, hair standing on edge. _“I could have had you there, without delay, in front of everyone, and what could they have done? What could you have done, Felix, except to take me as I am?” _His arm snakes around his waist, pulling him in until the space between their bodies is wasted into nothingness, and he is painfully right. All Felix can do is gasp and start rutting against him, trying to build friction where their hips encounter each other, where he’s most sensitive. Dimitri’s teeth sink in a little deeper, not enough to break skin, but enough to remind him that, here, he’s powerless, regardless of how much he might loathe the thought. 

_“Please, Dimitri.” _How small he must be, lost within Dimitri’s embrace, the sheer size of his body swallowing him whole as if he were just another number added to his bodycount. Felix can’t tell, but he’s been shaking, and the sweet wetness flows freely between his legs, pants sticking uncomfortably to his skin. _“Fuck me, already.” _

And Dimitri doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He tears himself away, effortlessly pulling Felix against him with one arm, pushing the both of them further across his bed, and when they are both laying down, he grabs hold of his wrists, nails them above his head until they’re throbbing, burning, promising to break beneath the force. Felix can only heave a breath, moaning another, then gasping as Dimitri lets his remaining hand travel his body. He outlines the dip in Felix’s waist, the peak of his hip, thumb trickling down each rib. The sheer size of him, so much larger than should have been possible, never escaped Felix, but in that moment, it is wholly inescapable. Dimitri yanks his shirt open, buttons popping left and right, and the shriek of fabric tearing follows wherever he goes until there is nothing left to cover Felix’s chest. 

Of course, he should have, would have, must have protested, but Dimitri is getting so close to that part he desperately needs touched that any bark Felix has left within him dies where it is born, right on the tip of his tongue. 

And still, Dimitri anticipates this, moving to kiss him with an open mouth. His tongue presses inside, drawing its edge against Felix’s muscle, licking its underside, tugging it into his own mouth so he can suck at it mercilessly. Breathing becomes impossible and Felix grows dizzy at the taste of his own their saliva mixing. He allows Dimitri to take over, though perhaps it isn’t exactly by choice that this comes to pass. The fight he never put up dies in its place. 

Soon enough, Felix’s mouth is no longer enough. 

Dimitri moves on to his jaw, scraping against the keen edge of his bone. He slides lower, to the underside of it, then to the nape of his neck, the blunt fringe of his collarbones, wreaking havoc everywhere he touches. Now, he's biting like he means it, and though Dimitri still can’t taste it, the scent of Felix’s arousal offers him an accurate glimpse into the effects of his actions. 

Sometimes, he bites a little too hard though. Felix squirms in his hold for a second before going slack again, unable to do much else besides moan, something inside him having been broken. At such times, Dimitri licks the wound, sucking at it softly, but it’s already too late. Violets and reddish browns bloom all across Felix's skin. Welts, too. He counts blessings upon his body, exhales a thanks in a short, little prayer in spite of what he believes. Dimitri’s religion is limited strictly to how easily Felix’s skin breaks, how quickly it blemishes. How perfect he is, most of all, in Dimitri’s hands. 

_“How beautiful.” _It’s a growl that comes out when he speaks, once he pulls away, admiring the way Felix wears his hard work. His voice is haunting. _“Felix…” _It resonates inside him, punctuated by the stripe Dimitri licks along his jaw. There, Felix melts, endlessly, and then his hand is reaching for Dimitri’s cock again, gingerly drawing out its length.

_“Don’t tease me any longer. No more.” _Too much is left unspoken, but Dimitri thinks he understands. 

With a nod and a kiss, he departs, leaving Felix cold and lonely. He snaps out of his reverie at the loss of contact, dreading that Dimitri might be gone in a blink. But he’s still there, making quick work of Felix’s pants. Noticing the small tease in his eyebrows, Dimitri smiles warmly, squeezing softly at his ass. 

He pushes his knees up against his chest, tugging the pants halfway down his upper legs with no immediate intention to take them off completely, and Felix is still too intoxicated to question anyone, not even when Dimitri leans down to press a kiss inside his thigh. 

Still, his finger is far more distinguishable against the already-loosened ring of muscle. He’s gushing slick in irregular spurts, and Dimitri’s hand is soaked in an instant. He outlines the curvature of the split between Felix’s cheeks, palming at his ass, rubbing the fluid all over Felix. His cock twitches each time Dimitri hones back in on his hole, precum leaking out in a string of pearls. 

And then he’s inside. 

In a flash, his digit dips into Felix, taking him in, the stretch and give of his insides. It isn’t that he needs preparation. Dimitri has just never been the type to take shortcuts, wanting to feel everything for himself. 

_“Can you tell? How wet you’ve become?” _His murmur gives rise to a new wave of blushings that disperse across Felix’s cheeks. He moans a sharp little sound, pushing himself further onto Dimitri’s finger, seeking so much more than what he can get from one single finger. Dimitri, of course, obliges, pressing two more fingers in with so much ease they may have been there since the beginning. He descends upon Felix, burying his face next to his head, nipping at his earlobe. _“How badly do you want me, Felix?” _

_“A-Ah...Dimitri…” _He writhes beneath him, arms coming up to lasso around his shoulders before he begins to tear at his back, digging his fingernails in the crevices between his bones, where the give is greater and there’s space for his skin to break. Felix struggles against him, running his hands up and down his spine, his torso, across the small of his back in sharp points, scratching viciously at him. 

_“I want to hear you say it.” _Dimitri huffs a groan into his temple, but he’s also kissing at it, unable to draw the line between loving and fucking. 

_“More than anything.” _Felix cries out into his hair, endlessly thankful for the way his voice gets muffled there. _“All this time—I’ve wanted you all this time __—” _That much is enough. He cuts himself short because this is so unlike him. All of this is so far away from what he’s come to know as his self. Felix hates—he hates what Dimitri does to him, to his body. He despises knowing that Dimitri has him at his fingertips, but most of all, that he doesn’t even want Felix _there _. What he wants is to be his equal, and maybe that’s just what Felix wants, too. 

Dimitri doesn’t miss the urgency in Felix’s tone, the moment at which his nails stop tearing into him in favour of holding him tighter, making a place to hide out of his body. Regretfully, he pulls away, breaking Felix’s hold on him, but only to position his cock against Felix and snap inside with one quick movement. 

Beneath him, there is the sound of a loud gasp, Felix’s eyes shooting wide open, head throwing itself flat against the mattress, and his back arches off the bed as much as it can in his current position. Dimitri still has him all pretzled up, knees against his chest, legs spread open, pants and thigh-high boots obstructing his movement. 

Taking all of Dimitri inside is an impossible challenge, but that sure doesn’t mean he won’t try. His cock slips effortlessly inside Felix, burying itself deep inside him, hitting against a part of Felix that unhinges his jaw, a stream of mewls coming loose from within him. 

_“More, Dimitri, I need more.” _And he’s reaching down his abdomen, making a play at grabbing his cock only to have Dimitri swipe at his hand. 

_“Patience, beloved.” _Though he is anything but unkind as he says so. He begins moving, slowly, steadily, his rhythm growing in pace and strength as he ends up slamming into Felix. That shuts him up long enough, but it doesn’t stop the sounds coming out of him, the pants, the faltering of his chest when his breath gets caught in his throat. He watches Dimitri through hazy eyes as he brings those fingers that had been inside him up to his mouth, licking them clean with one broad stroke of his tongue. The sight of him doing so wrenches Felix's mouth open, his own tongue snaking out, asking for a taste of himself on Dimitri, which he receives without delay. In a quick sweep, their lips lock together and they are kissing each other greedily, the sweet saltiness dripping down Felix's throat, getting him drunk on his own taste. 

All the while, Dimitri fucks him and loves him all at once, and it’s too much, just too much for Felix to make his peace with. His fingers root themselves at the back of Dimitri’s head and he pulls harshly, yanking his head back with a slow chuckle that riles Felix up even more. Dimitri wets his lips, dragging the tip of his tongue across them, and then he’s switching it up, grabbing Felix’s waist and bringing him up in his lap without ever breaking contact. 

Suddenly, they’re both horizontal, and Felix’s eyes float up along Dimitri’s naked chest, weaving through the firm gaps in his muscle until they’re making eye contact. It’s then that Felix realizes his hands are squeezing at his ass and Dimitri’s moving him up and down his shaft, literally fucking himself inside Felix remorselessly. 

He takes revenge—for what, he’s not entirely sure—on Dimitri’s neck with his teeth, and he’s not nearly as careful. Felix’s arms can’t encircle the wide expanse of his shoulder entirely, but he does his best, holding him in place as he sinks in, sucking and pulling at the skin, the muscle. His jaw clamps shut and the blood follows, just enough for Felix to savour the sweetness snuck between the heavy taste of iron and metal. He can’t help but think of Dimitri as tragic, for not being able to taste it for himself. _Very well, _Felix will just have to overcompensate in his stead, showing him other things nobody else has seen, and that thought, too, is so unlike him. 

It unnerves him, his anger now renewed, until he’s biting harsher marks into Dimitri’s skin. 

Their skin burns against each other, all sweat-and-slick-covered. The back of Felix’s thighs stick to Dimitri’s chest, and each time they move, they rip away only to slap back together with a sound that’s muffled by the dampness. Both of their breaths run ragged against each other’s bodies until Felix can feel his pulse in the back of his throat. Dimitri’s panting roughly, but he’s otherwise undeterred, Felix’s weight featherlight in his hands. Still, he clutches at his flesh tighter and tighter each time he slams into him, the very real danger of him crushing Felix becoming all-too-apparent. But they can’t be bothered to mind, not when the two of them are so close to coming already. 

Together, they chase that edge of danger, Dimitri threading his fingers tight around his body, Felix knowing very well how easily he may shatter in his hands, yet trusting him to keep him safe nonetheless. It’s a voiceless oath they swear to each other in cum, when Dimitri’s knot swells inside Felix, securing its place inside until they’re both coming.

Throwing his head back, Felix exposes the precious inside of his neck, stained by Dimitri in so many bruises. He’s in the middle of taking a breath, his body still shaking limply when Dimitri plunges forward, biting and sucking at one of his nipples, leaving him no space of mind to recollect himself. 

_“Di-Dimitri…” _His breath hikes a tad higher than his voice normally reaches, but there isn’t much he can do aside from taking it. Dimitri is still rigid inside him, and Felix’s own cock bounces against his stomach. 

_“Not yet, Felix. We’ve hardly just begun.” _

Seamlessly, Dimitri throws him back down like he's rehearsed this before, bed cushioning the fall slightly, and then he’s turning Felix around, pushing him down with the weight of his own body as he settles over him, chest flush against his back. There's the sound of fabric ripping again as all of this transpires, until moving is no longer an issue for Felix. And, as if he hadn’t just come, his hips snap right back inside Felix, the tip of his cock striking deep inside his body. 

Overwhelmed, Felix’s forehead falls flat against the mattress, but not for long. As soon as he relaxes into the spot, Dimitri’s fingers curl around his throat, tempting him back so that Felix can prop his head onto his shoulder. There, he is met with a messy kiss when Dimitri twists him to where their lips can chance on each other. Felix, unknowingly, raises his ass to angle himself better for Dimitri’s cock, and he’s moaning lewdly into Dimitri’s mouth, unable to focus on the kiss, too blissed out to figure it out. 

_“You look unbelievable right now, Felix.” _He speaks between the pecks he places chastely into Felix’s open mouth. _“Not once have you stopped amazing me, but now, most of all. I love you, dearly. I love you…” _His voice trails off, and he can feel Felix tightening around him in quick convulsions. Once, twice, thrice. _I. Love. You._

And all Felix can see is searing white, stretching without end before his eyes. 

He comes again, pouring himself all over the bed, and still, the heat does not relent.

_"Again, Dimitri. Again!" _The thought of not having him inside, making him whole in those places Felix cannot reach, in those subtle ways he cannot replicate, just the mere thought makes his body burn to be touched. _"Don't stop touching me. Please." _

And even if Felix had not spoken, Dimitri would have never dared to let him go. 

Unable to, because it's not enough for him either. He slides down along the bend in his neck, passing by Felix’s scent glands, and stopping just a short while past them. His mouth opens wide, teeth scraping skin, except he comes up short, heart thumping loudly against his chest. How long has he spent thinking of this moment, dreaming of the day when he can have Felix be his, wholly, entirely. Without exception. Now that he finds himself here, Dimitri stutters, not because he doubts himself, but because the excitement impresses reality upon him. 

It’s Felix that pushes him past the edge, throwing him into freefall, as always, all blunt and sharp at once.

_“Dimitri…”_

He takes the plunge, sinking his teeth with conviction, drawing blood in good measure. Felix stiffens in his hold, but only on the outside, his insides are still tugging at Dimitri’s cock. His scent peaks, growing sharper by the second, and Dimitri can understand that, instantly, everything has changed. Felix takes on the scent of campfire, crackling loudly against the winter’s silence. He smells like Dimitri, like he belongs to him, unconditionally. 

Licking at the blood, he attempts to soothe the wound, and his arms wrap tighter around Felix's waist, fearful that he might fall at any second. Instead, he finds a hand upon his arm, holding on timidly. 

_“Stupid boar.” _A mutter. He's incapable of looking Dimitri in the eye, though Dimitri thinks he can spy the blush of his face, spreading all the way down his throat and shoulders. 

_“You’re my soulmate. I have always known.” _

_“And what if I wasn’t? Would that have changed anything?” _

_“Most likely. But not in the way you think.” _And Felix can hear, feel his smile in the crook of his neck. His laughter, too. _“It simply means that I would have had to fight you a little harder as soon as you got it in your head that we do not belong together.” _

_That’s _what finally does it. 

He pulls himself upright, awkwardly pushing Dimitri onto his back. He straddles his legs, impaling himself low on his cock, and though he is bitterly insistent on not showing Dimitri his face any longer, the pointed moan that escapes betrays him nonetheless. On second thought, this is hardly punishment, and why should Felix want to punish him in the first place? His kindness? His loyalty? The unconditional love he bestows upon Felix without ever asking for anything in return? _All of it_.

Except, now that Dimitri is groaning below him, a melody in tune to the slow roll of his hips, the slip and slide of his muscles along his cock, it occurs to Felix that _this _is, first and foremost, a reward. Someone needs to take responsibility for his selflessness. 

_“By the Goddess, Felix, you look astonishing.” Breathtaking_, he thinks when Felix reaches an all-time-low point, shivering a moan as Dimitri’s knot expands inside him once more, and pausing there, huffing harshly. He relaxes into the touch of Dimitri’s hands roaming all over his back, settling on his waist to guide him back into a comfortable speed. _“Shall I help?”_

And the question is pointless when he’s already helping, when Felix had always intended to finally, _finally _offer something in return for everything Dimitri’s done for him. 

_“No! No…” _This isn’t the time to make the end of the world out of nothing. _“Let me do this for you, alright? For us.” _

It’s a most fortunate thing that Dimitri has learned Felix-speak well-enough to know that just this little is altogether too much. With a nod, he settles back, letting Felix pick himself back up. His hands remain in their place, but he fans them outwards, brushing along his thighs, then back up his hips, massaging the firm muscles. 

A small sigh from Felix before he grabs Dimitri’s hands and pins them in place. He is progressively growing unsteady, the rhythm of his riding now heavily irregular, hurried and harried as he chases after both of their orgasms. 

_“I’m close, beloved…”_

_“You don’t...have to tell me. Just come.” _Felix growls, though it sounds nothing like it. Inside him, he feels Dimitri growing still, knot swelling still, and while he focuses on that, the climax of their story sneaks up on him. Behind, Dimitri follows close on his heels, as always, being enticed into his own pleasure by the pleasure of his lover. 

It takes them a couple of more times before Felix’s heat is spent, before Dimitri’s rut subsides for the next few hours, the heat lingering behind like an all-too-familiar memory. Feeling himself up to it, Dimitri is the one to tug Felix into his arms, positioning his body between his legs, from where he cleans him ever-so-gently, taking his time to savour the way his own body fits perfectly around Felix’s. He had always been the type to indulge in those small fractures of time that would inevitably fade away, relinquished to the voids of the mind, and even so, Felix finds his tenderness contagious. 

Snuggling closely, he kept quiet, his thoughts churning anew as soon as the muggy fog of his heat had dissipated. 

_“Dimitri—”_

_“Felix—”_

They both began at the same time, piping back down into silence just as quickly. 

_“Go ahead, my beloved.”_

_“No, you can go first.” _Dimitri nods, but despite that, he appears to go even quieter behind him. Curiously, Felix turns around to face him, a hand finding its place against the side of his face. _“Well? Go on, then.” _

_"I know our time together hasn't exactly been the perfect picture of courtship." _How strange it is to see Dimitri, who could so easily unravel you with his eyes, even with just one, shy away. One of his hands has disappeared at some point beneath the stack of pillows that lines the headboard, and Felix watches him, growing more suspicious with each of Dimitri's rough breaths. _"Yet, it has meant everything to me. So much so", _and he pauses, pulling a small velvet box out from its hiding, _"that I wish for nothing more than to spend eternity by your side."_

To say that it comes across as a surprise would be a lie just as much as saying that Felix is not stunned would also be a lie. 

Fumbling slightly, the box almost getting lost in his grip, Dimitri finally opens it, revealing what Felix can only assume is some family heirloom or another jewel that Dimitri's spent Godess-knows how long thinking about who should claim its ownership. That he chooses Felix is once again too much. 

_"It's not like I can say no." _No matter how hard he wants to, he can't look at him. Felix blushes and burns and he's suddenly missing how much simpler everything had been before, when they were fucking. And even so, he knows that that isn't what it was to him. Dimitri made love out of him. _"You've gone and marked me, reckless boar. We're bonded whether you like it or not." _

_"So, that's a yes then."_

Dimitri enters his field of view when he leans to the side, trapping Felix with his only remaining eye. In some ways, it makes it that much harder to look away when there's only one of them.

_"Yes, yes. It's a yes." _Felix concedes, if only so he can go back to pretending that this doesn't thaw his icicle heart. His hand is the real peace offering here, and Dimitri takes it so very eagerly, sliding the ring upon his fourth finger, a look of surprise flashing across his features. 

_"I thought we might need to adjust it, but it appears to fit perfectly." _With a groan, Felix signals just how embarrassing he finds the dumb grin that Dimitri adopts, so full of love, like a puppy wagging its tail. But before he can make a comment, Dimitri draws him back into his arms, slipping the covers over them. _"I love you, Felix." _

_"I love you, too." _A mumble.

_"Hm?"_

_"I won't say it again!" _

_"Pity. Suppose I will have to content myself with the ring that's around your finger."_

_"Ugh. You're insufferable." _

There, in that immaculate world of white that stretches beneath the blanket above them, Felix finds peace in the shape of Dimitri, and though it will take him many years to admit it to it, he finds happiness there, too. Eternal.

**Author's Note:**

> Me, the whole time writing this: Mr. Felix Hugo Fraldarius, you _will_ take it up the ass and you _will_ enjoy yourself if it's the last thing I do!!!


End file.
